


Human Error

by nhasablog



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-20 03:32:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4771841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nhasablog/pseuds/nhasablog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock hummed, taking slightly longer to answer this time. “You tense up when people touch you.”</p>
<p>John blinked. “I...beg your pardon?”</p>
<p>Sherlock held out his hands. “You tense up. If someone so much as brushes against you, you just-” He cut himself off, flinging his hands around a bit in search for the right words. “You jump and squirm away.” He was so busy trying to explain it that he didn’t notice the way John was flushing. “You’re clearly traumatised from the war. Even if you miss it. It’s left its mark on you. You get uncomfortable when people get too close to- what?” Sherlock had looked up at him at last, his eyebrows raised. “What is it?”</p>
<p>(Or, John wants Sherlock to list a few things he learned about John that he didn’t notice on first sight. Once again Sherlock’s cluelessness for mundane things get proven.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Human Error

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted on my tumblr nhasablog.tumblr.com

“How was your date?”

John froze in the doorway, his eyes flying toward the armchair that Sherlock always sat on. “What?”

“Your date. How was it?”

John straightened. “Do you care or are you just asking out of politeness?”

“The latter, of course.”

John nodded. “Of course. It was good, thank you.” He shrugged off his coat, his gaze never leaving his flatmate. “Should I even ask how you knew I was on a date? I mean, I know you rarely listen to a word I say.”

Sherlock’s lips curled up into a half-smirk. “You’re wearing a dress shirt which both you and Mrs Hudson claim brings out your eye color, but you only wear it if you have absolutely nothing else because the collar annoys you - you need to stop pulling at it before it rips, by the way - but the fact that you wore it tonight even though you did laundry yesterday clearly means that you wanted to impress someone, so my logical conclusion is that you were on a date again.”

John had sat down on the other armchair while he’d been speaking. He gave an exaggerated shrug. “Is that all?”

Sherlock pursed his lips for a couple of seconds. “You cut yourself while you were shaving this morning because you technically weren’t in need of a shave yet, but you always feel neater while clean shaven. There’s also a long blonde hair on your shoulder and you reek of a woman’s perfume.”

John let out an amused laugh. “You always manage to see what others don’t.”

“That’s my job, John.”

“Tell me three facts about me that you didn’t see on first glance.”

Sherlock blinked. “Come again?”

“Three things that you’ve learnt about me ever since we became roommates.” John leaned forward a bit. “I want to see what the great Sherlock Holmes missed at first.”

Sherlock almost rolled his eyes. “You can’t know everything about someone instantly. Not even I can do that.”

John tilted his head. “I’m waiting.”

In reality, John just wanted to see what Sherlock would say. He knew quite well that his friend knew pretty much everything about him at this point.

Sherlock stared at him for a brief moment, not saying a word. “You go to the bathroom at least twice a night.”

John snorted. “Out of all the things you could say.”

Sherlock gave a half-shrug. “You told me to list things I didn’t guess at first. I didn’t know that you’d be walking around more than sleeping. Though I should’ve been able to figure that one out due to your experience with the war…”

John shook his head. “Continue.”

“Right. You sing terribly.”

John gaped at him. “Now wait a minute-”

“You’d think that someone with a voice as soothing as yours would be able to carry a tune.”

John fumbled for words for a few seconds, but decided to leave it. “And the third?”

Sherlock hummed, taking slightly longer to answer this time. “You tense up when people touch you.”

John blinked. “I...beg your pardon?”

Sherlock held out his hands. “You tense up. If someone so much as brushes against you, you just-” He cut himself off, flinging his hands around a bit in search for the right words. “You jump and squirm away.” He was so busy trying to explain it that he didn’t notice the way John was flushing. “You’re clearly traumatised from the war. Even if you miss it. It’s left its mark on you. You get uncomfortable when people get too close to- what?” Sherlock had looked up at him at last, his eyebrows raised. “What is it?”

John cleared his throat. “How you can be what you are and still be so clueless about such mundane things?”

Sherlock frowned in confusion. “Was it something I said?”

John couldn’t help it. He lowered his gaze and rested his head in his hand and grinned. “I don’t tense up because of the war, Sherlock.”

“Then why-”

John breathed out a sheepish laugh. “I do it because I’m ticklish.”

Sherlock blinked. “Ticklish?”

John squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. “Yes.”

“So you’re ticklish...everywhere?”

“What? No! Just in, you know, the usual spots.” He sighed frustratedly when Sherlock kept staring at him. “You know, uh, sides, ribs, belly. Those places.”

“Knees, neck, feet,” Sherlock filled in for him.

John shook his head. “Okay, how do you even know that?”

“Because you always squirm.”

“Because I’m always ticklish!” Sherlock opened his mouth to reply, but John cut him off. “Don’t tell me you’re not ticklish yourself.”

“I’m not.”

“You were awfully quick to answer there. You sure about that?”

“I’m quite positive, John. No need to stand up.”

John didn’t listen, and with two long strides he was at Sherlock’s side, a curious grin finding his lips. “I think you’re lying.”

“Why would I be lying?”

“Because you can’t stand the thought of the great Sherlock Holmes having flaws. Human errors, as you call them.”

“John, I can assure you- stop that!” John had reached out and poked him in the ribs before Sherlock had managed to bat his hand away. “You’re being ridi- no!”

Trapped between John and his armchair, Sherlock was exposed to John’s nimble fingers going for the most common sensitive spots, and they all proved to be jackpots. John was absolutely beaming when laughter started pouring out of Sherlock’s mouth.

“I knew it! I knew there was something human about you!”

“I’m not a robot, after all,” Sherlock managed to choke out. “John, come ohohon.”

“What is it? Does it tickle?”

Sherlock had clearly not been tickled in years, for his hands were free but completely useless. He didn’t seem to know what to do with them. Once or twice he came close to grabbing John’s wrists, but his fingers never fully grasped them. He probably hadn’t even noticed what had happened.

John sneaked under his arms to wiggle his fingers over his underarms, and Sherlock clamped down with a yelp, trapping him.

“Nohohoho!” he cried, sounding quite desperate now.

“It’s not my fault! I’m stuck,” John teased. “Let up, Sherlock.”

“Stohohop it!” Sherlock demanded, sliding down a bit, his legs in the air and almost kicking John in the head. “Dohohon’t!”

“What’s wrong?”

Sherlock eventually managed to shove John off. “No more,” he pleaded.

“No more, huh? Was it becoming too much for you?” John asked, a look of innocence replacing his previous mischievous expression.

Sherlock pointed a finger at him, still panting for air. “This never leaves this room.”

John gave a hearty chuckle. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t dream of letting anyone know that you’re human.”

“Excellent.”

“So I guess we learn new things about each other everyday,” John said as they both sat down properly again in their respective armchairs.

“I guess so,” Sherlock admitted. “You really shouldn’t expect her to call you, by the way. The whole date just screams disaster.”

John gave a nod. “Thanks for the tip.”

“I love to help.”

“Of course you do. Hey, I just realized I never tried your neck.”

Sherlock visibly tensed. “Let’s leave it like that.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay.” A pause, then, “About you not liking my singing voice.”

“Oh. I was just kidding. It’s, uh, really powerful.”

“Uh huh.”

“I never want you to stop singing, really.”

John suppressed a smile. This would be a fun week.


End file.
